


Body Say

by tobeconquered



Series: more than I’m supposed to [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Fluff, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 10:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconquered/pseuds/tobeconquered
Summary: “If my body had a say, I wouldn't turn away“





	Body Say

**Author's Note:**

> This one is short and (hopefully) sweet. 
> 
> It’s based on Body Say by Demi Lovato if you want to give it a listen :)
> 
> Thank you all again for your comments! They really mean the world to me and are definitely helping me build my confidence to keep writing and posting. You are all treasures ♥️

Sam can’t quite explain the way the armband makes her feel. It’s like, everything around her is suddenly alive, vibrating at a frequency she couldn’t process before, which is exactly the case, of course, but it still feels odd to be heightened in this way. Her physical senses have never been her strong suit. Sam has always been a bit cerebral, detached, but in this new condition she's beginning to feel beholden to her body and every stimulus it encounters.

Sam has never done illicit drugs, but she imagines this high is what it would feel like. Everything around her makes her senses buzz. It all seems to move in fast forward and slow motion at once. Of course, she notices it most acutely now — now that they are sitting here at O’Malley’s waiting for their food. Daniel has moved off toward the bar to get them another round of drinks and it’s just she and the colonel left at the table. Her eyes are on her hands, fascinated by the delicate lines and ripples there, but she can feel him watching her, can feel it in the same way she can feel the sparking energy between where her knees nearly brush his beneath the table.

The bolt of desire that shoots through her is nearly painful when she thinks of the space between them, how little it would take to close it. She can count the molecules hanging thin between them. It makes her body ache in a way that's all too familiar and entirely inappropriate.

Normally, she can tamp it down -- she has no problem knowing her place and distinguishing her role in this life, but normally she can't feel every fiber of her clothes as they scratch across her skin with each move. Normally, his fingers don't trace patterns along the tabletop quite like that.

Without remembering making the decision to do so, Sam stands and moves to his side of the table, like moth to flame. She wishes desperately they were in a booth, something where she could slide close to him, press their trousered legs together side-by-side at the very least. She nearly whimpers at the thought. It’s pathetic, really, how desperate she is to ease the ache. If she were herself, if she weren’t so high on friction and frisson, she’d be embarrassed, but in this state she can’t bring herself to care.

As it is, they are sitting in chairs tonight, not booths, and he is looking up at her with that same, infuriating, smoldering look he has sometimes and she gives him a desperate look because he must know how she's feeling — he must, his senses are just as heightened — and he’s not making it easy on her.

He eyes her a few more moments, glances briefly behind her at who she guesses is the preoccupied Daniel, and then slides his chair back. Just a few inches. Just enough that if she let's the sensations roaring though her body take over that she could slide a leg over his waist, could settle nicely, so sweetly in his lap, make quick work of those few molecules and —

Daniel clears his throat when he gets back to the table, at least partly because Sam is standing directly in his way while he’s holding three refreshed drinks, and mostly because armbands or no, he’s not blind. He shoots them both an odd look and Sam feels like someone has splashed cold water over her, immediately followed by a blush that rises to her cheeks as she shuffles back to her seat. If she presses her thighs together beneath the cover of the table, well, she figures that's her own business.

But the way that Jack (he can only be Jack in this moment) gleams at her tells Sam that he knows exactly what had been running through her mind and pounding through her body. The way his tongue delicately grazes the edge of his bottom lip in a way that only her heightened senses can perceive tells her he might just be pounding too.

Sam clenches her fists and reminds herself that no matter how loud it screams, in the end, her body doesn't have a say.


End file.
